The Tripod

Issue date: 9/16/08 Section: Features

8:30 a.m.: It's Friday. I wake up to my roommate's alarm. He's already hit "snooze" three times. I don't call him on it, I'll just wait until later when we have a fight and then bring it up at an illogical time.

8:35 a.m.: I check TrinTalk.com for the most up-to-date and accurate information about Trinity. Apparently if I want to pledge The Hall, I need to part my hair from right to left; I need a haircut. I start a new thread to figure out which barber to go to.

8:37 a.m.: Ugh, still no replies to my thread.

8:45 a.m.: My roommate is off to class. I do what anyone routinely robbed of privacy would do the instant they get it back.

8:50 a.m.: I close Redtube and head for the shower. As I walk down the hallway, I see her. Wait, what's her name? We're Facebook friends (read: I randomly friended her this summer). She was also in my orientation group, and I gave her a stick of gum. I give the head nod and flex a little which, unfortunately, causes me to drop my shower caddy. I corral the shampoo and she grabs my Axe bodywash. I can tell she's turned on.

9 a.m.: I return to my room, pausing before opening my door. I see my RA walking by. I have a poster of Bob Marley smoking marijuana on my wall. I hear you can get written up for that.

9:30 a.m.: Naturally, I recheck TrinTalk to see if anyone has replied. The only response reads, "Joe Hanson doesn't get haircuts; he, like the biblical Samson, derives his power from his flowing locks."

9:45 a.m.: I gather my books and throw them in my monogrammed backpack. Then I throw on the lanyard with my I.D. card and head out.

9:46 a.m.: I run back to grab my phone.

9:47 a.m.: And my aviators.

9:50 a.m.: I walk to the Bistro for coffee. The door is locked. Jerks.

10 a.m.: Now at the Cave, I forego coffee and get some gum in case I see what's-her-name. When I go to the cashier the conversation is as follows. Cashier: "Meal or flex?" Me: "Yes, I'm on flex." Cashier: "Do you want to use a meal or flex dollars?" Me: "I'll want to save flex dollars, so use a meal." I wasn't going to eat breakfast anyway; I'm beating the system!

11 a.m.: First (and only) class of the day; college is awesome.

11:02 a.m.: The teacher…er, professor distributes a quiz. What a liar! She said she never gives pop quizzes. I complain and she replies, "Do you check the syllabus often?" College is slightly less awesome.

12 p.m.: I meet up with friends at Mather. Why am I the only one rocking the I.D. lanyard? Crap, this definitely isn't cool; I stash it in my pocket.

12:05 p.m.: I'm not a fan of today's lunch options, so I skip right to ice cream. And cookies. Oh brownies too! College is awesome again. I take my "meal" and look for my friends. I do a lap around the room and still can't find them. Do I sit with that kid I commiserated with while waiting outside a fraternity last weekend? Dan? Dave? I can't remember. Do I leave? Dare I eat alone? I see a friend, similarly catatonic. He sees me, and we casually walk toward each other as if this was all planned.

3 p.m.: Time for a trip to the gym, or as my bros call it, "the get big house." When I walk in, I see a bunch of people standing around. Lazy much? I walk over to a now-empty treadmill and start it up. A grumpy-looking girl taps me on the shoulder and informs me I have just cut six people in line. Publicly shamed much? After a solid 11 minutes on a bike, I'm ready to lift. I won't go into the intricacies of my regimen, but let's just say I bench almost half my body weight. The secret is taking time to rock out to my iPod in between sets as I subtly flex in front of the mirror and look around to see who is watching the show.

7 p.m.: After a nap, a buffalo chicken wrap and a savage beating in Wii tennis at the hands of my roommate, I notice that it's dark out: party time. A few guys come over and we set up our 'rut table, which bears a striking resemblance to my closet door.

10 p.m.: I love my friends. I love college. No really, man, I seriously just want to like, do this every night? I start calling my friends from home to tell them how awesome I am ... I mean, college is.

12 a.m. : Gmae tiem! Lest og to teh farterniteis!

12:01 a.m.: I go swimming in Axe.

12:15 a.m.: Why is it so hard to get into these parties? Don't they know that I'm on the baseball team? Well, I'm trying out, I was All-County, honorable mention in high school.

12:45 a.m.: After chatting with the guy at the door about the "Sahwks" game, he lets me in. I hide in the corner for 15 minutes because I saw one of my orientation leaders. I don't want them to write me up.

1 a.m.: As I not-at-all awkwardly stand off to the side, suddenly, I'm bear-hugged from behind. It's gum girl! Her: "What's up Cameron?" Me: "Uh, it's Carver." Her: "Oh right, do you remember my name?" I almost say "gum girl" when she blurts out, "Gloria, remember?" I was close.

1:02 a.m.: Conversation wears thin, and I think she noticed me "up-tucking" after the hug. An upperclassman descends and parades her off to the dance floor. Foiled!

1:15 a.m.: College is both awesome and confusing. I look around the basement, and I take solace in the fact that if all these "scholars" can navigate it, I should be okay.

1:30 a.m.: On the walk home, I spot the guy who was my tourguide when I visited. I cross the street to avoid him and a subsequent write-up.

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